


Paparazzi

by guineamania



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, F/M, French government, Insane Grantaire, Lies, M/M, more lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is the most irritating journalist to grace the earth and Enjolras is the President of France. Unfortunately, Grantaire seems to have developed a fixation with the golden leader and it is only when they get to know each other out of work; that they actually know each other for real</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Political Pest

Julien Enjolras pushed his way through the crowds gathered outside his offices. Ever since he had been elected, the paparazzi had horded round him all looking for the lasted scoop for their respective newspapers. He hated journalists; he hated them with a passion the rivalled his passion for his country. Enjolras had been elected as President of France two weeks previously and it was as if the hype would not die down until he was beaten in the next election. "'Jolras!" a familiar voice shouted as the one person he actually wanted to see fell into rank next to him. Lucien Combeferre was Enjolras' lifelong friend, personal assistant and was like his older brother. He would never have managed this if it wasn't for him; and Enjolras would be eternally in his debt.

"You are an angel!" he exclaimed as Combeferre passed him a large vanilla latte with heaps of cream.

"Thought you might need the boost today, seeing as though your favourite person has just slid past the security," Combeferre sighed and Enjolras instantly turned around. The most annoying journalist to grace the earth strolled past his security with practiced ease and a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Oh God, not now!" Enjolras sighed in despair as the reporter strolled towards him. He tried to hurry away but the reporter just lengthened his strides. Nicolas Grantaire was the bane of every politician's life. He had a way of out talking you and crushing your ideals in a record breaking time. And he somehow managed to talk you into sounding like an idiot for his paper. He was actually freelance and the main papers were always bidding extortionate amounts of money for his degrading articles. Grantaire also seemed to have a thing about Enjolras; ever since he was just the new kid on the block in politics to the present he was always there ready with a snide and cynical comment.

"Monsieur President!" Grantaire called out with a smirk as he drew level with Enjolras.

"Not now Grantaire," he sighed while stepping into the lift with Combeferre. Unfortunately Grantaire took that as an invitation to join them.

"I just need to talk to you about an interview I conducted with Robin de Courfeyrac, the prime minister," he smiled standing in the way of the door. "He said that some of your policies will have to wait and will probably be used to win the next election. Is this true?" Grantaire asked with his tape recorder already out.

"Did he really?" Enjolras questioned sceptically. Grantaire pulled out another tape and played it. Courfeyrac's voice played out.

" _Yes some of our policies will have to wait. Things cannot change overnight," he explained. "_

_Will it take a few years before you get round to these lesser policies?" Grantaire asked. "_

_Maybe, we will just have to see how it goes but that is likely," Courfeyrac replied remaining calm._

_"So these will be used to win the next election?" Grantaire stated._

_"No, no I-I never said that!" Courfeyrac exclaimed._

_"But you hinted that you would save policies. That would be a great temptation to do it so people remember for the election wouldn't it?" He asked, clearly manipulating the prime minister._

_"Well yes it would be a temptation," Courfeyrac mumbled and the recording cut out._

Enjolras sighed. "So when and where did you ask him these questions?" Combeferre asked, trying to defend Courfeyrac.

"Seven o clock yesterday morning at the local swimming pool," Grantaire smiled. Enjolras shook his head. No wonder Courfeyrac had been confused; these questions had been piled on him during his early morning swim.

"So Monsieur Enjolras, do you agree with this statement?" Grantaire asked sticking the tape recorder in his face.

"No I don't," Enjolras stated but was interrupted again.

"Is there a disagreement between you and Monsieur de Courfeyrac?" Grantaire blurted out.

"No! Whatever gave you that idea?" he exclaimed before Grantaire ran with that wrong idea.

"He told me one thing and you told me the exact opposite ... That sounds like a disagreement to me," he replied as the lift continued to slowly progress up.

"No, Courfeyrac just got slightly confused," Enjolras sighed but was cut off again.

"So you are saying Courfeyrac is an idiot then?" Grantaire argued and Enjolras tensed, he was ready to beat up Grantaire. But that would not be good for his image.

"I said no such thing!" he exclaimed in defence.

"Well you said Courfeyrac was confused by my questions but yet you understand perfectly," he stated, smiling at his target beginning to get flustered.

"He is just inexperienced in this field," Enjolras sighed running his hand through his hair. Grantaire grinned.

"Thank you for your time," he smiled as the elevator pinged to a stop. The doors opened and Grantaire waved at the pair stepped out. The elevator doors slid shut ad Enjolras stood, bemused.

"What just happened?" he asked, finally taking a sip of his coffee.

XXXX

The next morning Enjolras walked into his office to find a copy of this week's Le Canard enchaîné sat on his desk. The headline stood out and Enjolras groaned in despair; _President calls Prime Minister Inexperienced Idiot_ , by Nicolas Grantaire. After reading the full front page article, Enjolras groaned in despair, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. He was going to kill that man, slowly and painfully. Enjolras pulled out his mobile and speed dialled Combeferre. As soon as the Combeferre picked up, he began talking dispersing with all formalities. "No you cannot kill Grantaire," Combeferre stated without a moment's hesitation. It was creepy sometimes how Combeferre knew what Enjolras was thinking without even a hint. Even over the phone his powers worked.

"How did you know I wanted to?" Enjolras asked with a small pout at being denied his revenge.

"The same way I know you are pouting right now," Combeferre replied, offhandedly.

"Secret cameras?" Enjolras asked slightly jokingly.

"No, you are terribly predictable and we have lived together for twenty years," Combeferre chuckled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"That is true," he laughed.

"I'm just arriving at the office, see you in a mo," Combeferre added and hung up on him. Enjolras flung his phone onto the table and sat with his head in his hands. He loved this job; he really did but was it worth the hassle. He thought it was; he had the chance to change things like he had always wanted to do. Enjolras would just have to tolerate the bad sides for the greater good. Combeferre strolled out of the lift with his arms full of coffee and pastries. After sharing them out so he just had his and Enjolras' left, he kicked Enjolras' door and was met with a sigh of relief from his younger brother.

"I don't know what I would do without you mon grand frère!" he exclaimed grabbing the coffee and blueberry muffin. They were not really brothers; just as close as you could get to brothers without being related. Enjolras' father was an abusive drunkard who seemed to beat his only son every time he was home. Combeferre was Enjolras' best friend who lived over the road. So when the beatings were so extreme as to land Enjolras in hospital, Combeferre's family took him in and raised him as their own son.

"You would starve, mon petit frère," Combeferre stated watching as Enjolras wolfed down the muffin.

"Now that is true," he conceded with a small smile.

"Fey says that he doesn't blame you for what that bloody manipulative idiot said," Combeferre explained reading from the text he had received. "I think we know who he is talking about," he added and Enjolras nodded solemnly.

"I have organised for you to make a reverse statement against what Grantaire wrote. I've also arranged for you to have lunch with Courf and hired a newspaper to cover it," Combeferre explained and Enjolras nodded. "We need to get this cleared up by the EU-Russia summit. No one will value our views if they believe there are disagreements in the ranks," he sighed and Combeferre agreed. "And your first meeting is here," Combeferre added, holding the door open for some official to stride in with a plan. It was going to be a long day but at least he was free this evening. Free to be who he wanted to be; without irritating meetings.


	2. Alter-Ego

Enjolras looked into the mirror and admired his handiwork. His golden blonde curls were stained a deep black and covered one of his brilliant blue eyes. The frame of his face was exaggerated and his skin painted a darker tan. He was unrecognisable compared to his usual appearance. Once he had changed his suit for pair of tattered jeans, plain t-shirt and a jacket then no one would look twice at him. Ever since the election, Enjolras had been hounded whenever he stepped foot out of either his offices or his house. So that was when Rene Combeferre was born; he was Enjolras' secret identity that he used to get away from this life. He could do anything he wanted as Rene without having to worry about the paparazzi exposing things. He pulled up his hood and stepped out the back door of his house.

He was settled in his favourite chair in the library, engrossed in a book and at peace. Enjolras did love being able to change things, he loved making the world better. But he needed time out; he needed peace from the pressures this job brought. The library was peaceful and quiet; he was just left alone to read. Occasionally he would work but that would sour his sanctuary, so he avoided it as much as he could. "Excuse me, can I sit here?" a familiar voice asked as Enjolras tensed. He turned around to be face to face with the one man he never wanted to see here. Nicholas Grantaire stood smiling at him with newspaper archives in his arms. "I can go somewhere else if you want to be alone," he added, almost nervously. Grantaire was never nervous; he was self-assured, cocky, but never nervous.  
"Sure, sit down," he smiled weakly at the reporter. His heart pounded in his chest at the fear of being recognised. He would never hear the end of this from Grantaire is he was caught in disguise. It would ruin his career completely. No one would elect a man that hid from his own people.

Grantaire sat at the opposite end of the table and spread out the archives he had got out and had is old fashioned notebook in front of him taking notes. He looked up sensing that Enjolras watching him and smiled. "What are you reading?" Enjolras asked, trying his best to act natural despite the fluttering in his chest.  
"Old newspaper articles about the University fees debate. Everyone believes this president is going to do something about it and I need proof of past promises that have been broken, for my article," he explained and Enjolras nodded.  
"Maybe this president will do it. He seems to genuinely care," Enjolras replied, desperately trying to defend his own honour.  
"This problem has been going on for years and every government promises to fund more universities and lower the fees. But none of them do; there are people getting to around fifty that are still paying off the loan," he argued with a passion that Enjolras had never seen the man wear before. He had always seemed uncaring and casual; like he only wanted to record what happened to the world, not change it.

\----------------------

They had been arguing for hours; however both men seemed to be enjoying themselves more than they had in months. "But a certain amount has to be paid to keep these facilities running so it cannot be completely free, there will have to be fees in the future," Enjolras argued, letting his shields drop in a heated debate; even though they were arguing the same side, both men had incredibly different views.  
"I'm not saying it should be free, just cheaper so even the poor have a chance in further education," Grantaire replied, his newspapers and notebook forgotten.  
"Now that is where we agree," Enjolras smiled back at Grantaire, who just nodded before standing up.  
"I should really be getting home," he smiled. "But it has been nice debating with you," he added before realising he never knew his new sparring partner's name.  
"Rene," Enjolras told him as his heart started to flutter again.  
"Rene," Grantaire nodded, "Would you like to get coffee sometime? I have really enjoyed this."  
"Of course, how about Thursday?" Enjolras asked before he actually thought about what he was saying. He was arranging to meet his arch enemy, while in disguise, to have coffee. He never saw this one coming. His heart continued to beat frantically and flutter as Grantaire smiled at him with those twinkling brown orbs. This day just got better … now he feared that he might be falling in love, with the most annoying journalist to grace the earth.

Enjolras left quite quickly after Grantaire had disappeared down the road. His head was spinning and his head thumping against his chest. This just couldn't be happening. The passion and easy he debated his arguments was entrancing and his silver tongue was enchanting on his own. And he didn't look half bad either: his brown irises twinkled with raw emotion and the way his lip curled up on the left hand side when he smiled was beautiful. But yet they were polar opposites; Grantaire was an irritating, manipulative, cynical drunk with a pen, whereas Enjolras was a mature, responsible revolutionary who cared about the world and wanted to change it. They just weren't compatible, no matter how much he hoped they could be. Anyway, he doubted Grantaire reciprocated his feelings, they had only known each other like this for a few hours. He probably just saw Enjolras as a person to train his arguments on. That was all. He rested his head against the cool wood on his back door and let out a deep sigh. He needed to get over this childish attraction to a man he knew to be a vain idiot.

\--------------------------

"Eponine! I'm home!" Grantaire shouted as he pushed the door open. It was late but Eponine hated to go to sleep until she knew Grantaire was home safely. He was known for his drinking; everyone in the business knew that Grantaire was a serious alcoholic and had no determination to stop at all. Thankfully, people still bought his wonderfully crafted articles.  
"You're late, again!" she shouted from the living room and Grantaire rolled his eyes. "How drunk are you tonight?" she asked at the top of her voice.  
"Not at all, I'll have you know!" he shouted, dropping his bag on the coat hook. He heard the thumping of footsteps from the other room and Eponine poked her head round the door.  
"What do you mean not drunk?" she asked shocked while Grantaire thumped down onto the creaking sofa. Eponine was a great flatmate; they had shared for the past five years and were more like a married couple than most couples were. Grantaire was thankful that he had actually found a flatmate that put with his drinking on a daily basis.  
"I mean I have only had a bottle of beer tonight," he replied, rolling his eyes again. He wasn't permanently drunk; it was just a very common occurrence.  
"But, but you've been out until midnight," she stated in shock. "What have you been doing all this time?" Eponine asked, still unwilling to believe Grantaire's tale.  
"I met a man, got into a political debate. And I think I have fallen in love," he replied, staring wishfully at the ceiling.  
"Pray tell child," Eponine chuckled, sprawling out on the settee. "I thought you were still doting on your golden Apollo in your usual strange way," she added, causing a blush to race across Grantaire's face. Grantaire had sported a very childlike crush on Julien Enjolras ever since he had first interviewed him all those years ago. But he just couldn't help interviewing him like he did. People wanted his articles like that, and he needed to argue his point or the government would continue to roll over on the important issues. And the drinking didn't help his idol stop hating him.  
"I do but, this one just seems to enjoy being with me, enjoy just talking," Grantaire murmured smiling to himself.  
"And I bet he was traditionally handsome as well," Eponine teased and received a cuff round the ear for her comment.  
"He was handsome yes, but that is not the point!" he argued as Eponine's grin spread.  
"Tell me all the details, lover boy," she joked and ended up sprawled face down on the floor.  
"Well, his hair was jet black and hung in pristine curls framing his face. His eyes were a brilliant blue like a perfect summer's sky and glistened like a polished diamond. The angles of his face were noticeable but smooth and were exaggerated in the electric light. The way he held himself was majestic but his expressions were still humble. I was just dying to draw and paint him. He listened to me like my opinions mattered and seemed happy when we finally agreed," Grantaire described, casting his mind fondly back to those four hours he spent with his new idol. Eponine lay on the floor looking up at him.  
"Oh my god, awww, that is just so adorable!" she exclaimed. "Nicky is in love!" she laughed dodging his swinging feet.  
"I am off to sleep and you better had got over this by the morning!" he shouted, leaping the sofa before collapsing onto his bed. His last thoughts were of Rene before he fell asleep.


	3. The Beginning of a Glorious Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Rene' speaks to his brother and everyone recalls their emotions the day two forces of nature met for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I got caught up in other things and completely and utterly forgot to post the next chapter on here

Enjolras awoke the next morning still thinking of the brunette reporter. Grantaire would not leave his mind; and he had another interview with him today. Enjolras' heart raced; how on earth was he going to cope trying to act like nothing was wrong? Well, nothing was wrong; or was it? He was in complete turmoil and was seriously debating calling in sick for the rest of his life. But then he would never be able to help the people. Eventually he pulled himself out of bed and crawled into the shower. Everything was better after a shower. The hot water tumbled down around his body but his mind still drifted to the reporter. He hit the shower door with a strange anger coursing through his body. After his spontaneous outburst, Enjolras just stood letting the water thump against him in the vain hope that as soon as he left the sanctuary of the cubicle, Grantaire would be back to his usual irritating drunkard self. He strongly doubted that would ever happen; but it was worth a try.  
Enjolras' blonde curls were still plastered to his face as he darted through the back entrance to his offices. Combeferre stood waiting, checking the appointments for Enjolras' day, like he always was. He looked up slowly at the swoosh of the door and sighed. After one glance at Enjolras' soaked hair and dejected expression, he slid the phone away. "What's troubling you?" Combeferre asked as they walked together. Enjolras ran a slightly shaking hand through his sodden and tangled curls.  
"How do you always know when something is wrong, brother?" Enjolras asked with a sigh, confirming Combeferre's suspicions. Combeferre effortlessly pulled one of his classic 'Do you really need to ask that?' expressions and rolled his eyes at his younger compatriot.  
"Because your hands are shaking, you look generally downcast and whenever something is on your mind you have an overly long shower," he explained as if it was a simple medical analysis. He envied the way Combeferre could make even the most complicated of things sound as if an infant could understand it. That was one of the many reasons they worked so well together; Enjolras was passion, Combeferre was logic.  
"It's Grantaire," he stated, refusing to look Combeferre in the eye. Enjolras could practically taste the disapproval and exasperation radiating from his confidant. "Rene met him last night," he mumbled and the exasperation was suddenly changed into shock.  
"Well, what did Rene do?" Combeferre asked in a hushed tone as they walked amongst Enjolras' staff. Rene was a secret only Enjolras and Combeferre were privy to; and they wanted it to stay that way. If it was to be leaked to the press then the troubled president's only outlet was gone.  
"Rene talked with his passionately about politics for hours until Grantaire had to leave. But the troubling this is … that Rene enjoyed it and cannot stop thinking about the idiot," Enjolras grumbled. Both men were so absorbed in their problem that they never noticed Grantaire appear right behind them.  
"Rene can't stop thinking about me?" Grantaire grinned in shock and Enjolras froze in a completely different kind of shock. He didn't know what to say. There is no way Enjolras would admit his feelings the idiotic journalist; he didn't even really know what they were anyway. Were they even real feelings? It was tearing him apart inside. "Yeah, he said there were so many flaws in your plans he couldn't stop thinking up counter arguments," Enjolras hurriedly lied, trying to ignore Combeferre's smug smile next to him.  
"Did he tell you we agreed in the end?" Grantaire replied, also sporting a smug smile as Combeferre's grew.  
"You agreed?" He chuckled and Grantaire nodded, oblivious to the glare Enjolras was sending at Combeferre.  
"How do you know Rene anyway?" Grantaire asked, his eyebrow arched. This time it was Combeferre's turn to speak up and protect Enjolras' identity.  
"Rene is my brother and a good friend of Enjolras'," Combeferre explained. That was their cover story; Rene Combeferre was the president's confidant and they often debated to help him with his policies. It had served them well so far. Combeferre's family was from Marseilles so no one would stumble across his real family; and they were as close as brothers anyway. It came naturally to them both. Grantaire nodded and thankfully let the idea drop.  
"I'm here for my interview sir," he smirked and Enjolras rolled his eyes.  
"Step into my office then," he sighed, walking into his office. Combeferre remained out in the hall and organised for his proper press conference later; and put Enjolras' dinner date with Grantaire into his schedule.  
Enjolras and Grantaire sat in Enjolras' office arguing at the top of their voices. To Enjolras it was starting to feel comforting and relaxing; maybe even fun to test his wits against a worthy opponent. He was always doing this with Combeferre to help him do what was best for the people; but their views were too similar for it to really test him. But with Grantaire, his cynicism intrigued Enjolras and they could argue for hours on end. It was never a conventional interview between the two of them; they had been playing this game for too long for it to be strictly formal. It was six years ago when Enjolras was just out of university and causing a storm in the world of politics, that the duo first meet each other. And of course the first time they laid eyes on each other started with a cynical comment from the reporter. Grantaire couldn't forget that day and relieved it in his memories when things were getting bad; that was where he met his Apollo, and his life took a turn for the better.

_It was the young Enjolras' first press conference as the youngest member of the French government and representative for Marseilles. He was the youngest person to ever be elected and had whipped up a storm amongst paparazzi. Grantaire was known on the freelance journalism circle but none if his articles had really hit it off yet; the pieces he wrote tended to be hard hitting political exposés not the gossip the public tended to like. But he hoped that he could get the new semi-contract on this new politician on the block. Each politician had a reporter in each newspaper that specialised in them. Grantaire needed this job; Eponine couldn't keep the two of them afloat for much longer. He sat on the front row with his pen clenched between his teeth and his already worn black notebook balanced precariously on his knee. The room was abuzz as they waited for the first formal public appearance of the boy._   
_Enjolras was subtly shaking as he waited behind the curtains. He had achieved what most people dream of for their whole lives, before his twentieth birthday. The other side of that curtain was probably the most terrifying thing he would ever meet; a hoard of journalists all fighting for the privilege of stalking him for the duration of his career. They were out for blood and he was an injured deer they all wanted to catch. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiled slightly. "You'll do brilliant Julien," Combeferre smiled, softly rubbing circles on Enjolras' shoulder. This always had calmed Enjolras down and did not fail the politician's faithful friend now. They had been friends since they were five and knew everything there was to know about each other._   
_"Thanks Luce ... You'll stay won't you?" He asked, showing a glimpse of how young he actually was. Behind the long words and passionate speeches you could easily lose the fact his was just a nineteen year old boy straight out of school, being thrown in with the sharks on his first outing._   
_"I'll always be here," he nodded was a smile. "Now you go out and do your thing," he chuckled and Enjolras couldn't help a small smile as he stepped out of the curtains._   
_Grantaire wasn't looking at the stage when Enjolras walked out and the room fell silent. He turned around and could not stop his jaw dropping open at the sight that met him. The young politician he was supposed to be interrogating was beautiful. He had to be the mighty Apollo incarnate not a mere mortal. He radiated a golden, shimmering glow and his blonde elegant curls framed his picturesque face like a glistening halo. His blue eyes seemed to flicker and move like the waves of a perfect ocean. Those eyes could pierce Grantaire to the core and seemed to unravel his whole being. His notebook clattered to floor and thankfully that noise snapped him out of his daze. The desire if this pierce burned even stronger in his heart now he had laid eyes on his target. As Julien Enjolras started talking he scribbled ferociously, encouraged by his heavenly voice. If only he had kept his mouth shut._   
_Enjolras felt at home in the press conference. He just talked about his ambitions, his beliefs and the passion poured out of him in a natural torrent just like it did when he was trying to motivate the people so he was voted in. At one point he even found himself enjoying it with his soul ablaze once more. That was until the mousey haired reporter in the front row began the questions from the floor with the bluntest question he had ever answered; "And why should we believe you?" Enjolras froze at the question. The reporter's hazel eyes bored into his skull as his tousled hair fell over his face. He wasn't a very memorable man but Enjolras would always remember him; his political mind had already labelled the man 'Cynic - needs fixing' and he would never stop until the cynical thoughts were banished. He looked at the reporter's card; 'Nicolas Grantaire - Freelance' Freelance journalists were always the worst. He knew that they always had more to gain and lose from articles; and so were more brutal. He had prepared for complicated questions; personal questions but not the fundamental question Grantaire just asked. He let out a sigh and just started talking. "Because I fight for you. Yes I was born into a rich family. And if I wanted to I could just leave the suffering of the people behind me and live a happy life. But I am of the opinion that everyone should have the chances I had as a child; and I will not rest until everything is equal. Not for my own gain but for everyone's. Now you may choose not to believe me but I swear to be entirely honest with you all. The press are a direct route to gather the opinions of the one's I am trying help and to spread my message. So I hope you will believe me and help with the dream of a free France!" He explained with his passion returning in a flurry. The other questions flew past and not a word from the cynic._

  
Grantaire was head over heels in love with the man; he was perfection and this flowed into his article. In some places it was horribly cynical but in others it was beautiful; the newspapers lapped it up and Grantaire was paid a fortune for his article. And Enjolras benefited too. He was noticed as a rising star and got the publicity he needed. But as the two men started to get to know each other, Enjolras gave up on fixing Grantaire and wished the man would leave him alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras hurriedly applied his disguise and slipped out of the office for his coffee meeting with Grantaire. He walked with a strange skip in his step that usually only accompanied a political conquest. This was new to Enjolras; he had never felt in love, lusted after anyone or ever been on a date. For the whole of school everyone just assumed he was asexual. And of course he did nothing to prove those speculations wrong. Yet even after the certainty that Grantaire liked, maybe loved, Rene...fear still lingered in his heart; what if Grantaire saw through his disguise and hated him for it? He would never be able to cope with the rejection. That was one of Enjolras' only fears; that and failure. And then to have to see the man in question nearly every day for interviews would just be hell.

Before he knew it, Enjolras was stood outside the Cafe Musain, the coffee shop both Enjolras and Rene frequented regularly. He took a deep breath to steel himself and pushed the door open. Grantaire was sat in the corner booth nursing a mug of strong black coffee. Enjolras' lips curled into a genuine smile when Grantaire's face lit up at the sight of him. He ordered his normal vanilla latte and sunk into the booth opposite Grantaire. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Grantaire grinned and Enjolras sighed.  
"Sorry, I was held up at work," he apologised, sipping his coffee.  
"Where do you work Rene?" Grantaire enquired, tilting his head slightly with the question. Enjolras loved how he did that; he noticed he did it in interviews when he was actually interested in the answer you were going to give him; Grantaire was so open with his body language and emotions. It was nice to see that after a long morning dealing with politicians.  
"I am assistant to the French ambassador in England," he smiled as Grantaire's eyebrows raised.  
"I certainly didn't expect that, library boy," he chuckled and Enjolras rolled his eyes.  
"I met your brother yesterday," he added off handedly.  
"Lucien?" Enjolras questioned, even though he knew full well it was Combeferre.  
"I was interviewing Enjolras and the conversation turned to you," he admitted with an adorable little blush.  
"Please don't say it turned embarrassing," Enjolras chuckled, finally at ease with this role.  
"Oh no! It was quite complimentary really," he winked with the blush spreading over his nose. In none of his interviews had he ever seen Grantaire blush. It was quite beautiful. He was open in interviews with his expression but you could tell it was fake if you saw him really smile out of his career. When he smiled, his whole face lit up and you found yourself unable to stop your own lips curl into a full smile in response.

They talked about nothing and everything for hours until Grantaire finally had to leave. "Sorry Rene but duty calls, I've got a press conference with your friend Enjolras in five minutes," Grantaire smiled and stood up downing his coffee in one long gulp. Enjolras' heart stopped in panic. He had completely forgotten about that conference; he couldn't be late or come in wearing these clothes. Grantaire was observant, he would definitely notice if anything was off. Grantaire's smile faltered slightly and he slowly pushed his hands into his pockets. "I was wondering, would you like-like to come to mine tomorrow night. My roommate is baking homemade pizzas and she always makes too much," he stuttered and his ears turned a light pink, causing some of Enjolras' fear to ebb away. Grantaire was asking him on a date to meet his roommate.  
"Is that a date?" Enjolras asked, trying to mask his giddy anticipation with confidence.  
"If you want it to be," Grantaire mumbled the fear of rejection showing in his posture.  
"I would love to go on a date with you Nicolas," he smiled as Grantaire's shoulders instantly loosened and he let out a deep breath. Grantaire scribbled his address and phone number down on a napkin and left with a spring in his step.

Enjolras sat there for a minute or so in a joyous daze before the glint of the metal hands of the clock caught his eye. He had two minutes. Two minutes to run across town, wash temporary dye out of his hair, take off the make up, get changed and get to the conference. Not going to happen. But he had to attempt anyway. Enjolras jumped out of his seat. After the sprint, sweat poured down his face and the black, very temporary hair dye was dripping of the tips of his golden curls. Thankfully no one was on the back stairs or he would have some very big things to explain to his staff. He was already two minutes late when he arrived at his bathroom to wash and change. That took another five minutes and he arrived at the conference room with dripping hair and panting. Combeferre was stood outside the door with that little smug smile on his face. "Nice for you to join us sir. How was your date?" he asked while Enjolras was desperately trying to calm his racing heart.  
"It was not a date 'Ferre, and I am late," he stated grumpily.  
"I moved your conference back a quarter of an hour, thought you might get carried away. So you have eight minutes to go find a hairdryer," he stated with that smug smile growing.  
"You wonderful bastard," Enjolras hissed, attempting to dry his hair with a towel.

Eight minutes later, Enjolras was calm and composed for his press conference. His heart was beating its regular rhythm and his hair was finally tamed. Combeferre was stood at the door, nice again, as Enjolras cast him a scowl. "I still hate you," he stated while straightening his suit.  
"No you don't," Combeferre replied, not looking up from his tablet. Enjolras sighed, Combeferre was right...as always. He sent another glare at his assistant before walking out of the frying pan into the fire. The world's presses were gathered for the French view on the European economy faltering. Some global newspapers had been touring Europe getting each country's opinion on the issue. French would be judged on whatever he said; and the man that got him hot and flustered was on the front row. Enjolras took deep breaths as he mounted the stage in front of the crazed horde. He should have tied Grantaire up, stopped him from coming. Enjolras cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. He took a final breath as the room quieted down for him to speak. "After much deliberation with members of my council and advisors, I have come to the conclusion that France will help any other European Union country that needs financial assistance but not if it effects the stability of our nation," he stated and the room was in uproar with questions. Combeferre quieted them but one person spoke out.  
"And whose decision is it as to when it affects our stability? When you can't have a new mansion? Or when the homeless rates rise?" Grantaire asked, leaning smugly back on his chair.

Enjolras froze while he collected himself. His heart rate raced and he could feel the heat rushing to his face. "It will be when we decided it to be. When the taxes have to be increased and benefits lowered we will stop until the economy is strengthened once more. I am in favour of helping our fellow nations but Patria must come before all else. Thank you," he finished, stepping down from the podium and trying to hurry out without looking suspicious. He needed to be able to keep his head in front of Grantaire or he would surely suspect something was off.


	5. Chapter 5

Enjolras sat in his office openly cursing himself. He acted like a complete fool in that interview and would be torn to pieces by the press. At least he had managed to get his statement out without stuttering or any other degrading event happening. He downed another cup of coffee and rested his throbbing head on the table. He didn't know how long he would be able to keep up the charade. It was already wearing him out more than being President was on its own and had almost messed up his career. But he was starting to feel something for the ruggedly handsome journalist, and couldn't bring himself to stay away. It was a poisonous fixation. His phone vibrated spontaneously against the table and Enjolras snapped out of his pit of self-loathing to check it. It was Grantaire. It read: Hey Rene. Remember our date tomorrow – 7pm :) Ep wants you to bring wine if possible! XxEnjolras chuckled, the corners of his lips curling upwards as his mind was wiped of the disastrous interview.  
Sure thing, any specific type? Enjolras typed and he finger hovered over the send key. With his smile growing slightly, Enjolras softly hit the x and then sent. Maybe this relationship would be good for him. Nothing in particular xx Grantaire replied and Enjolras put his phone away with a smile implanting its place on his lips.

The next day passed without any problems until it got to around four o'clock. Enjolras was twitchy, jumpy and could not stop looking at the clock. Ten minutes and seventeen checks of the phone later, Combeferre batted the phone out of his hand and ordered him home. They weren't going to get anything done with Enjolras in this state so he might as well go home. Enjolras jumped into his car and sped down the streets. He was excited and nervous at the same time; it was tearing him apart inside.  
Grantaire was running around the apartment in a mad frenzy. They were in no way prepared for Rene arriving and it was half six already. He was still throwing bottles out of the window into the conveniently placed recycling bin. It didn't help that it took him three quarters of an hour to actually find something decent to wear. Then Eponine sent him to buy some bread and the apartment was in its usual state; like a bomb site. Eponine was no help; if you dared disrupt her in the preparations of pizza night then you would not get fed and get thrown out the window as a bonus. Last time he landed in the recycling bin, it was not a pleasant experience. Everything had to be perfect for Rene's visit; he didn't know who the real Grantaire was and he wanted to keep it that way. As far as Rene knew he was a creative famous journalist with a mischievous streak; not a serious alcoholic that refused to stop with a blackened soul that leaked despair and cynicism. He could never know. It was five minutes to seven and the last of the rubbish went out the window. Eponine had nearly finished cooking and Grantaire was trying to assemble some form of table when the doorbell rang. His house wasn't the cleanest and most equipped; but he lived there fine with Eponine. It was just when people came over he felt ashamed of his standard of living.  
Grantaire brushed himself down and gathered his composure before he opened the door with a smile. Rene stood nervously on the doorstep with two bottles of wine, a cake tin and a bouquet of flowers balanced in his hands. Grantaire blushed and let him inside. "Hey, glad you could come," he smiled nervously as the majestic man graced his disaster of an apartment. It was too late to back out and say they should just go to the café again; they were past the point of no return.  
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Enjolras smiled and passed the flowers to Grantaire.  
"You didn't have to!" Grantaire exclaimed as a rosy pink blush spread over the bridge of his nose.  
"I felt bad coming over and having you two go to all this effort for me," Rene confessed as Grantaire filled up an empty wine bottle they kept around for decorative purposes and arranged the flowers in it tenderly.  
"It's really nothing," Grantaire brushed it off and gestured round the small room. "Well…this is it. Take a seat," he smiled, moving the last of his papers off the settee. Enjolras sat down and put the wine on the little table Grantaire had dragged from his room. Grantaire gawped; he wasn't a wine connoisseur but he did know what he was talking about when it came to alcohol. "A 2009 Chablis, Bougros 'Côte Bouguerots' Grand Cru, Domaine William Fèvre!" Grantaire exclaimed, cradling the bottle in his hands and picking up the next. "And A 1978 Boal, Frasqueira, Barbeito! These must have cost a fortune!" he exclaimed gently putting them down. "I can't accept them." He shook his head but Rene pushed the Vintage Madeira into his hands.  
"Yes you can. You'll enjoy it a lot more than I will," he smiled tenderly.  
"But, but this must have cost you about two hundred quid!" he exclaimed, still staring at the precious bottle in his hands.  
"I wanted to get the best for you," Rene blushed, timidly.  
They lapsed into a small silence before Rene stood up again. "Is Ep here?" he asked and Grantaire tilted his head slightly in confusion.  
"You know Ep?" he asked with before Rene could answer his question, Eponine flew at Grantaire's dark angel.  
"Rene!" he laughed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms around his neck.  
"Hey Ep darling," he laughed kissing her on the top of her ebony black hair.  
"You're Nic's date?" she asked, looking between the two of them confused.  
"How do you know Eponine?" Grantaire asked again, still completely bemused at this turn of events.  
"Yes and I know Ep because my brother is infatuated with her," he winked and Eponine's face shone a bright red. Grantaire just stood there gawping as Eponine released his tall, dark stranger.  
"I'm not going to ask," Grantaire shook his head and thumped into their creaking, decades old settee. Eponine just shrugged but a little smile illuminated her features.  
"Luce made you a cake," Enjolras grinned passing her the cake tin. Grantaire rolled his eyes and admired the wine once more.  
It didn't take Enjolras long to grow comfortable in this raggedy little family. Grantaire was alone and on the streets when he was eighteen. He found Eponine when she had been abused by her father and was crying in an alleyway. She was only fifteen but they bonded like brother and sister. It took them a year and a bit to save up enough money and get jobs to be able to afford this place. They had lived together in this tip for five years now and things were getting better now Eponine could leave her jobs and get an education while they lived, with just the essentials, using Grantaire's article money. Grantaire had put the rattling old TV on ages ago but no one cared what was happening; they were on the second bottle of wine and the fourth out of seven pizzas. Eponine had been spurting out stories of Grantaire's exploits and he had been slowly sinking into the settee every moment. But Rene kept him anchored. He was making a point of touching Grantaire at any opportunity and their fingers were currently entwined. They were going out now; it was official and that thought made Grantaire's heart swell in joy.

However it was soon time for Rene to leave, he had work the next morning. They said their goodbyes and Eponine retreated into the kitchen to leave Grantaire alone with his love.  
"That was great, Nic," Rene smiled, still holding Grantaire's hand in his own.  
"Pleasure having you," he smiled and instinctively kissed Rene of the lips. He could tell Rene was shocked but soon his lover kissed back. He dreaded to see Rene leave but watched as he walked into the rain. Suddenly Grantaire sprinted into the downpour without a concern, "Rene!" he shouted and jumped on the man when he turned round. They kissed passionately with Rene holding the smaller man up to his height. "I'll see you tomorrow," Grantaire smiled and Rene smiled back.  
"Of course," he chuckled while lowering him down. Grantaire stood there, oblivious to his soaked hair and clothes, until Rene's car had driven away. Just as he turned to go back inside a black car sped down the road and nearly knocked him over. It skidded to a halt next to him and Grantaire was about to have a go at the driver when two men jumped out. Without a seconds pause, they jumped him. No matter how much of a fight he put up; he was thrown in the boot, tied up with a sack over his head. The last thing he heard was Eponine screaming his name and the screech of tires on wet tarmac.


	6. Chapter 6

Enjolras was still sat there watching the feed long after the chat had finished. Combeferre had managed to download the contents of the disc onto both his and Enjolras' phone so they knew Grantaire's condition at all times. Combeferre had driven his friend back to his apartment and prepared to spend the night over there. There was no way he was leaving Enjolras alone when he was in this state and there was nothing they could do until morning anyway. The whole of the car journey was spent in an awkward silence with Enjolras staring obsessively at his phone screen. Grantaire had been given a sketch pad and a pencil to entertain himself and probably keep their prisoner out of trouble. No matter how many times he examined the room, there were no hints to Grantaire's location. These men were professionals; that was not good for them at all. He didn't even look away from the screen as Combeferre herded him out of the car door. The only time Enjolras did stop looking at the screen when Combeferre prised the phone out of his hands and pressed a cup of coffee in its place. Even then it was a few seconds before Enjolras blinked and realised he was looking into steam not a screen. He let out a pitiful noise of despair and looked up at Combeferre with tears in his eyes. No one had ever seen the mighty president like this before apart from Combeferre. Enjolras did not deal with loss and emotions very well. Any emotions were magnified to the extreme and mood swings hit him with a vengeance. When Enjolras' mother died, he cried for two days straight and refused to see anyone apart from Combeferre for a month.  
"Drink, Julien," Combeferre ordered; the only way he would pull Enjolras through this was by taking charge and not giving his younger friend a moment to let the guilt strike. Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sipping at the scolding hot liquid. They sat in silence as Enjolras drank and drew in the comfort radiating from Combeferre. They sat in a blissful quiet where the only noise was Combeferre's fingers racing across the keyboard.  
"I-I'm gonna go to sleep, 'Ferre," Enjolras murmured as his trembling hands set the empty cup onto the table gently. Combeferre nodded as his friend left the room. Without Enjolras knowing, Combeferre had been searching the number plate recognition and finding the CCTV camera footage of Grantaire's street. There were hundreds of black cars in Paris with that as the beginning of their number plate. And he had to wait for the camera footage to be sent to him. So instead of sitting idly he turned on the camera feed. It had been about half an hour since they last looked at it and Grantaire had been busy. It seemed the stunt with the tracker had alerted Grantaire to the camera in the corner and he was trying to help. With shaking hands he was showing them a piece of paper with clumsy drawings on. It was blatantly obvious that the brash reporter was terrified at what situation he was in and who he was being used as ransom for but he was still trying to get himself out of there as quickly as possible. The drawings, despite being drawn with a trembling pencil, were pictures of his captors that he had seen and names. Combeferre hurriedly took a zoomed in screenshot of the drawing before Grantaire had to tear it off and screw it up when his captors walked in. "Thank you Nicolas," Combeferre whispered before he set to work

XXX

Grantaire had just managed to screw up the page and stuff it under the bumpy mattress before a new face walked in. So far he had managed to put faces to Claquesous and Babet. The men came in unmasked when they were dealing with him but kept their backs to the camera; another thing to confirm that there was someone sympathetic to him on the other end. This time it was someone else but he voice matched the one of Montparnasse; he was a lot younger than the others and attempted to dress like he was posh and fashionable. Attempted being the key word in the statement; he just looked ridiculous. "Breakfast lover boy," Montparnasse chuckled laying a tray on the bed. Grantaire frowned at him; they were always saying things like that. They made no sense.  
"Wh-why am I here?" Grantaire stuttered; he was still scared but he needed to know why they kept him in this room.  
"You're ransom against your valiant lover," Montparnasse said mockingly and Grantaire's frown grew. He was ransom against Rene, who would want to use him against Rene? He was French ambassador in Britain, but that didn't warrant a ransom attempt. Before Grantaire could ask another question, the door was slammed and he was left alone once again. But he couldn't get Montparnasse's words out of his head. Rene was his lover but why would someone kidnap him to use against Rene? He slowly ate the food they provided as his cogs in his mind whirred into action. They could be maybe using him against Combeferre; Rene was his brother so if Rene's lover was kidnapped then Combeferre would help. Maybe this was some roundabout way of getting to Enjolras. But then Eponine would be a better choice or even Combeferre himself. All the scenarios his frantic mind could conjour just circled round to one question; why him?

XXX

The pictures and names Grantaire had sent them gave them the identity of the group that kidnapped him. They were called Patron-Minette and were all convicted felons that had disappeared off the radar as soon as they were released and were suspected of many things but never caught. Their leader was a man named Claquesous who nobody knew what he looked like thanks to the bandana he always wore; he was put away for ten years for armed robbery. Gueulemer was one of Claquesous' gang in the robbery and got the same time as his leader. Next was Babet who was locked away for four years for bond forgeries and was a jack of all trades. The last was the youngest of the group and the only one that had been heard from since his release. Montparnasse was a nineteen-year-old that had been arrested for twelve months for theft but unlike the other of his group, he had arrived for all his bail appointments and had a registered address. His next appointment was in two days; there was their first lead. Combeferre had worked all the way through the night and was now feeling his eyelids droop. He just arranged to go to Montparnasse's meeting then shut his laptop. The rising sun was just appearing on the skyline when Combeferre finally dropped onto Enjolras' couch. He could know sleep easy knowing that soon they would get some answers.


	7. Chapter 7

As Combeferre predicted, Montparnasse denied all knowledge of being part of Patron-Minette and the duo couldn't drag him into custody without getting the police involved. They interrogated him to the best of their skills but the boy wouldn't crack; he had obviously been trained. Combeferre didn't even want to tell him about Grantaire's picture just in case of repercussions for their prisoner. There was nothing more they could do; until Enjolras bumped into Montparnasse on his way out, with a beaming smile on his face. Combeferre scowled at his, as if to silently say that Enjolras should not be that happy. They left with Combeferre fuming, that was their only lead to Grantaire's whereabouts and it ended with nothing. Grantaire was Enjolras' lover; that made the journalist family. And no one hurt his family. "What are you so happy about?" Combeferre asked with a sigh as they drove back to work. They had to pretend nothing was wrong; they had to act as if they didn't care about Grantaire. The pretence was taking its toll on the president. He was always distracted during his press conferences when he spotted some other journalist sat in Grantaire's seat on the front row. Every time his phone rang, Enjolras prayed that he as hear Grantaire's dry chuckle when he answered it. It never was.

"I put a tracker in his pocket," Enjolras grinned when Combeferre continued to glare at him. "I bought a car tracker and slid it into his pocket when I bumped into him. It is microscopic so he won't see it," he explained, looking immensely pleased with himself. Combeferre did have to admit that it was a good plan; but he wouldn't tell Enjolras that, his ego was already too big. Unfortunately, because Enjolras was the president and had to report to work, it was Combeferre's job to monitor the feed and the tracking data. It wasn't a very fun job. The drop off day was hurriedly approaching and Montparnasse had not led them to Grantaire. He had probably been told not to go to the house until the drop off was complete; just in case they were tracking him. Combeferre threw his phone across the office angrily and then winced when it hit the other wall. He hated this situation; for years he had been telling Enjolras to go out there and make some friends that weren't to do with politics. Finally Enjolras had heeded his advice and then this happened. It was infuriating.

XXX

Grantaire knew something was big coming up. It had been around a week since his capture and the house was buzzing with anticipation for something. Maybe he would be going home soon; all he wanted to do was go home. Grantaire missed his job, he missed Eponine and he missed Rene. He just wanted to sit in Rene's arms in from of the TV with overly expensive wine that his boyfriend would bring along. The door thumped open and pulled him out of his blissful daydream. "Nearly drop off day, boy," the kidnapper called Babet chuckled throwing his miniscule dinner onto the bed. The lack of food was causing the previously slightly chubby reporter to lose a lot of weight exposing a little bit off muscle but if this continued then ribs would be visible on his filthy chest. "And time for your boyfriend to drop out of the big race," he added with a smug smile. It took a few seconds for that sentence to fully click into Grantaire's head.  
"W-what?" Grantaire stuttered with confusion spreading across his features.  
"He really fooled you?" Babet asked with his face mirroring Grantaire's before breaking out into a beaming smile and a laugh burst out of his lips. "Our fancy ruler tricked his most devoted follower," he laughed and finally it all fell into place. The fact Rene and Enjolras were so close; his piercing blue eyes; the way Combeferre and Enjolras talked about Rene; why he had been kidnapped. Enjolras was Rene. Enjolras had lied to him. Rene had lied to him. The revelation sent Grantaire's thoughts into a whirlwind. Everything was a lie; the only good thing in his life was a lie. Tears poured down his face and when Babet laughed, the tray with frozen porridge hit him smack in the face. The slap reverberated through the small room and Grantaire sobs increased intensity. He was left alone with just his thoughts of betrayal and despair.

XXX

Enjolras went to the drop off spot and left the money. He dropped out of the race and spent all day at home staring at the video feed. Grantaire was getting thinner and more worn as the days progressed; his cheek bones were definitely more prominent and his eyes were sunken and red rimmed from crying. Enjolras never thought this would happen; he had seen the conversation between Grantaire and his captors but had no idea what could have shaken the reporter so much. Tears streamed down Grantaire's and he rocked backwards and forwards, bordering on hysterics. He needed to get Grantaire out of there; he needed to find him now. Enjolras head fell into his hands and greasy blonde curls fell, obscuring his pained expression. Then the computer beeped.  
Montparnasse had entered a house with no known occupants and had stayed there for an hour or so. They had found him; that had to be where Grantaire was, it just had to be. After the drop off, the kidnappers must have tripped up once they knew they had the money. A smile spread across Enjolras' face as he speed dialled Combeferre. They could get him back, Grantaire was coming home.  
Before Combeferre arrived with a police squad, consisting of some of their most loyal friends, Enjolras had transformed into Rene and was stood in the doorway bouncing on his heels. Bahorel was the squad leader, Combeferre met him the first time Enjolras was arrested for disturbing the peace. Their meetings soon became a regular occurrence. Joly was a medic that went to school with Enjolras and Grantaire. Enjolras hates doctors and hospitals so Joly was the only one he would let treat him. Bossuet was a police officer and Joly's lover, Feuilly was an orphan that Enjolras funded through police training and Marius was the new boy to the group. They were the president's most trusted men and he didn't want anyone else involved with this. "Rene," Bahorel nodded and Enjolras nodded in response. It was time.  
Enjolras, Combeferre, Eponine and Joly sat in the car with the feed and control of the mission. Eponine had convinced Combeferre to let her come, claiming that Grantaire would need his sister after all of this. Enjolras was finally convinced to stay out of the fray as well. Combeferre did not want to be the one to tell the country that the president had died while in disguise rescuing his secret lover. Tension made the air muggy and thick as Enjolras refused to do anything but stare at the screen with Grantaire on. Bahorel and his team had entered the house and the kidnappers had split up. Montparnasse and two others ran out the back door to be caught effortlessly by Feuilly and Marius while Claquesous ran to Grantaire’s room. However he only got as far as to bind Grantaire’s hands and haul the weak man to his feet before Bahorel clattered him across the back of the head. His limp body smacked the cold hard floor and within seconds all four were thrown into police cars. Enjolras was on his feet and sprinting to the house when Grantaire hobbled out, leaning on Bahorel. His head hung low and brown curls shielded his eyes. Eponine was on Enjolras’ tail but for once let someone else go first. Grantaire really loved that boy and would want to see him. The ground sped past him as Enjolras tore towards his sobbing lover. He was about to embrace the trembling Grantaire when Grantaire’s hand shot up and smacked Enjolras straight around the face. Everything fell silent apart from Grantaire’s sobs. “I hate you! I hate you, you lying bastard!” he screamed hysterically with hatred resonating in his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Time stopped. Enjolras' jaw dropped in shock as Grantaire trembled with tears streaming down his face. "How dare you lie to me? How dare you manipulate me?" he sobbed, stumbling back away from the stunned Enjolras. "The only thing good in my life, you tore to shreds!" he cried but the enraged speech was taking its toll on his weak body. Breath tore out of his strained lungs and fled out of his mouth with his chest heaving erratically. "I never want to see you again, liar!" he screeched through the frenzied breathing. What had he done? Enjolras didn't know why Grantaire hated him. Hadn't they just saved him? Shouldn't he be grateful? Eponine ran over and caught Grantaire just before his underused legs gave way underneath him, and sobs tore through his body. As Eponine was practically carrying his back towards Combeferre's car, Grantaire stopped and turned towards a stunned Enjolras once again. "Thanks for nothing, Enjolras," he whispered, just loud enough so Enjolras could hear him. Enjolras. Grantaire knew; and Grantaire hated him. Enjolras could feel his heart shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces as he stood alone on the dark road. Eponine and Grantaire had driven back home and Combeferre was helping clear up. He didn't even notice when Combeferre took him home.

XXX

Grantaire was a complete mess. Sobs tore there his whole body as Eponine drove them both home. He curled up in the tattered Volvo's fabric seats and would not respond to anything his flatmate happened to comment on. Salty water dragged dirt down Grantaire's flushed cheeks. They just wouldn't stop pouring. He wasn't exaggerating when he screamed at Enjolras. Their relationship was the only good thing that had ever come into his life; it was just a lie, all a lie. The tears continued. When they arrived home all he did was just crawl into his old ratty bed; but the soft fabric of the pillows and his homemade blanket did a little to calm the tears racing down his cheeks. Eponine settled gently on his bed and massaged his trembling head in a vain attempt to stop the tears flowing down her best friend's red cheeks. He didn't stop crying until the sun was rising in a murky sky and the traumatised man had cried himself to sleep. Seeing the salty lines marring her best friend's cheeks, Eponine knew something had to be done to fix the shattered relationship between drunken journalist and mighty political leader. Combeferre would help and they would fix this...no matter what it took.

XXX

Enjolras was reinstated into the election race but he didn't care anymore. Grantaire hated him; Grantaire was gone. Nothing felt right. Combeferre basically ran Enjolras' campaign and kept his brother out of the limelight for as long as possible to let him recover. But it wasn't getting better; every time he stepped into his office, the guilt and pain tore through him and his head spun quickly. Everything he saw reminded the President of Grantaire. In the corner was the chair he used to lounge in before their meetings. That computer was where he first read Grantaire's articles. He couldn't bear it anymore. His home wasn't even the same safe haven it used to be. "Enjolras," Combeferre sighed as they both sat at their now-shared apartment. Enjolras had taken to sitting curled up on the settee in the dark, reading Grantaire's old articles about him. The laptop screen illuminated his pained expression and tears were welling up in the corner of his eyes once again. Combeferre slowly got to his feet and sat next to Enjolras like he was a frightened animal and at one wrong move, would bolt. "You can't carry on like this," he stated and affectionately kissed Enjolras' temple. The President of France whimpered into his assistant's shoulder as Combeferre wrapped his arms around his brother. "Do you love him, Julien?" Combeferre asked bluntly and Enjolras' head bobbed frantically in agreement.  
"Then you need to do something to get him back instead of just sulking here in the dark," he whispered into Enjolras' blonde curls.  
"I'm in," Enjolras mumbled.  
Enjolras was cleaning himself up in their joint bathroom while Combeferre rang Eponine. "What did he say?" Eponine blurted out with her voice in a tense whisper.  
"He's in; Enj will do anything to get Grantaire back," Combeferre sighed in relief. "How's R?" He asked, his voice dropping to below the sound of the shower.  
"Broken, thoroughly shattered. I don't know how to deal with him, 'Ferre," Eponine mumbled with a slight whimper squeezing through her lips. "He never leaves his room and never speaks. It takes me hours to get him to eat or drink something and I am running out of holiday hours. I can't leave him alone," she explained with despair hinting in her voice.  
"It's okay Ep, I'll call around his office and find someone to help you out. Just hang in there sweetie. I love you," Combeferre replied as Enjolras finished in the shower.  
"Love you too, 'Ferre," she sighed and he hung up. Enjolras stepped out of the bathroom with trembling hands running through his drenched blonde curls. He was still nothing like his usual self. The flames had died in his eyes and dark shadows haunted his proud bone structure.  
"Who was that?" Enjolras asked, his gruff voice barely above a whisper.  
"Eponine, I was checking on Taire," Combeferre confessed as he gently rested a hand on his brother's shoulder.  
"I didn't mean to lie to him … or make him feel that way," Enjolras murmured, playing with the hem of his shirt. His whole demeanour had changed after the incident; he was more withdrawn into a shell and didn't burn with the righteous fury that used to course through his veins. Combeferre just hoped that if Enjolras finally got Grantaire to love him again, Enjolras would return to his old self.

XXX

Eponine shoved her phone back in her pocket when Combeferre hung up. Grantaire was still fast asleep, clutching an empty wine bottle to his shaking chest. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his skin took on a deathly white pallor from lack of wine and substance to keep his battered body running. No matter how much food Eponine forced her best friend to eat, he could never keep it down or if by some miracle he did, it never helped. It was as if Grantaire had lost the will to live when Enjolras betrayed him. If Enjolras wasn't Combeferre's best friend then Eponine would have already killed that idiot for doing this to her friend. A soft knock echoed around the apartment, jutting Eponine out of her solitary thoughts. It must be the help Combeferre promised. Eponine pulled the door open and a bundle of pink and blonde hair rushed into the apartment in a frenzy. "How is he?" the blonde tornado asked, unheeding to Eponine's confusion.  
"Who are you?" Eponine asked with her characteristic bluntness, enhanced by lack of sleep which actually made her quite terrifying.  
"I'm Cosette, I'm here to help!" she giggled.


	9. Chapter 9

Cosette tore through the apartment cleaning up everything in her wake, leaving Eponine gawping in the centre of the sitting room. She didn’t even know who this girl was let alone why she was on a cleaning spree. “Excuse me, but who are you?” Eponine asked when she finally managed to pin Cosette into a corner.  
“I’m Cosette, I’m Monsieur Grantaire’s intern at the office. Monsieur Combeferre called saying that you and Nic needed help and I instantly volunteered,” she giggled before darting off again. “Now you rest and get ready for work. I’ll keep Nicolas safe,” she smiled and Eponine nodded gratefully before walking back into her room and collapsing on the bed. She was asleep within minutes.

“Hey Taire,” Cosette whispered sliding into the dark room. Grantaire’s figure was visable through the minimal light squeezing its way into the room. He was curled up on his small stained mattress clutching an empty wine bottle to his chest. Upon closer inspection Cosette could see dried tear tracks staining his face and it was obvious he hadn’t washed, eaten or slept since he returned home. “Can I help you?” Cosette asked, sitting down on the mattress next to him.   
“I want the pain to go away,” Grantaire sobbed, chewing on the blanket as a subconscious calming motion. Cosette’s heart broke with those pain filled words and her fingers instantly curled through his hair to sooth his tears. The motion seemed to work as Grantaire moved closer and rested his hair on her lap in his despaired delirium.   
“I can’t do that … but you can sweetie,” Cosette murmured, still continuing to play with his hair. “The pain will go away if you get back on with your life. Find someone else to write about, leave Enjolras behind you,” Cosette insisted. It took a bit of convincing but eventually, Grantaire promised to try and got to his feet unsteadily. As soon as Grantaire was in the shower Cosette pulled out her phone and called Combeferre. "Hey Cette, how's it going?" Combeferre asked as soon as he picked up.   
"I've got him out of bed and in the shower, it's all up to you now boys," Cosette sighed, massaging her forehead. She couldn't believe that Combeferre had managed to rope her into this harebrained scheme of theirs to get Grantaire and Enjolras back together. At least it was helping Grantaire get better, he was going back out into the world ... That had to count for something in this plot they were planning. 

XXX

It was weeks before Enjolras actually managed to find Grantaire. The drunkard had taken to disappearing at unearthly hours in the morning and either coming home really late or not returning for days. However despite this erratic behaviour, Grantaire had made a name for himself as a journalist and was often recruited by the major newspapers. He even had his own online political column. However when Enjolras found him it was purely by chance. For months Enjolras had been telling his friends of Grantaire; and for months his friends had been telling him of a new member to their friendly group. The Amis were the group that planned everything with Enjolras; all his laws, speeches, everything. The day Enjolras found Grantaire was when he arrived at the meeting to words of a spy in their midst. "I can't believe it Enjolras!" Courfeyrac exclaimed. "Over the weeks you were away, he worked his way into our group. We were great friends, almost brothers until we caught him snooping in our files," he explained and everyone else nodded along with him, rage and anger filling the room.  
"Take me to him," Enjolras nodded, his face stoic and unchanging as Courfeyrac opened the door to their back room. Grantaire sat there, tied to the table leg. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, mouth gaged and eyes blindfolded. He was oblivious to Enjolras' entrance but perked up at the sound, shifting his body subtly. Courfeyrac moved to pull the blindfold off but Enjolras stopped him with a silent shake of his head. Courfeyrac frowned at Enjolras, one eyebrow raised in confusion but still complied with his leader's wishes. He cautiously untied the gag and dodged Grantaire's spit aimed at his face.   
"Let me go!" Grantaire snarled with a venom that Enjolras had never heard his voice contain before. "I haven't done anything Courfeyrac, tell your friend that as well!" He screamed, his head turning to face Enjolras. "Yes I'm not stupid, I know there are two of you," he chuckled manically. Grantaire had lost it; the trauma and lies had corrupted his mind. This was what was left off him now; and it was all Enjolras' fault.   
"Let him go Fey," Enjolras whispered, making sure to disguise his voice from Grantaire. He quickly cut off Courfeyrac's objections with a death glare before fleeing the room as fast as his thumping heart could take him. It's all my fault, his mind screamed as Enjolras ran through the poring rain back to his apartment. The mission suddenly became more important; Enjolras wanted Grantaire back. He had to get his Grantaire back.

XXX

Thoughout the next two weeks, Enjolras was shamelessly flirting with Grantaire without actually seeing his ex. He baked cakes, picked flowers, brought wine, bought Grantaire’s painting and sent romantic letters. Trying to get Grantaire back was exhausting but Enjolras would not give up on their love. He needed it; he needed Grantaire to be able to keep him grounded while everyone else proceeded to praise his every word. Grantaire had never been back to the Musain and according to Eponine, he had finally settled down and had begun to write a novel. There was no better time to go and see him. But every time Enjolras got into the car to go to his house, the president found himself subconsciously fleeing in the other direction. But this time he was not allowed to back out of it. He was stood at Grantaire’s door, with the amis posted in every direction he could run. He raised his shaking fist and tentatively knocked on the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Grantaire slowly pulled open the door, before seeing Enjolras and attempting to slam it in his face. Enjolras predicted this response and with lightning quick reflexes, pushed himself inside before the drunkard could lock him out. Grantaire and Eponine’s apartment was just how he remembered it, that beautiful night he first came. He remembered sitting on their sagging couch and sipping at the ridiculously overpriced wine he had brought along. Enjolras would do anything to travel back to that day again and tell Grantaire everything before they could get into this horrible state they were in now. “I’m sorry,” were the first words out of Enjolras’ mouth, and much to his relief they did seem to affect Grantaire in some way. The reporter’s usually lax shoulders tensed for a spilt second before sinking down as he walked away from Enjolras, clearly trying to ignore him. Enjolras wasn’t going to let him; not anymore. “I never meant to hurt you, I just wanted to protect you. If I had talked to you using my real identity then I knew men like those would find you!” Enjolras exclaimed, desperately pleading with the Grantaire that fell in love with Rene. “I didn’t know they knew about Rene,” he muttered, the strong façade flickering just for a second. 

A second was long enough for Grantaire to see Enjolras’ sincerity and felt his heart shatter again. It just threw his world to know that the man of his dreams had been lying to him and his long term crush was the same person as the man of his dreams. But the love was crushing the fragments like vines twisting into cracks in a brick wall. He wanted to let Enjolras back in, he desperately wanted the president back into his life. But Grantaire didn’t trust him anymore; he could not love someone he didn’t trust. But it seemed his heart was willing to try anyway. Maybe it was worth a shot; Enjolras seemed to want it to work. “Why do you want me back?” Grantaire screamed, spinning around. Enjolras could clearly see the deep dark bags hanging limply underneath bloodshot eyes. Madness radiated off him and jagged nails dug into the palms of his hands. It was only then Enjolras truly saw what his actions had done. The Grantaire he fell in love with had been shattered by his lies and fear for his own privacy. Enjolras would do anything to fix his love. 

Grantaire knew that look, that was Enjolras’ ‘I’ve found a cause’ look and he would not stand for it. “No! Don’t you even think about it!” Grantaire exclaimed. “I am not some cause for you to fix Julien. Just stop pitying me and tell me the truth. Why. Do. You. Want. Me?” Grantaire exclaimed, taking no nonsense from the politician that had captured his heart.   
“Because you challenge me!” Enjolras blurted out before his mind could catch up. “Everywhere I go everyone is trying to suck up to me by agreeing with everything I do and everything I say. I fell in love with you when you dared to criticise me. When you contradict me without caring what anyone thinks of you, my heart swells and I just want to debate with you until we agree,” Enjolras shouted, the words flowing out of his mouth without his whirring mind being able to filter them. “At first I thought it was a competition, some way to better myself but it is so much more. I love you Nicolas and if you were a normal person you wouldn’t take me back … but you are far from normal,” Enjolras explained, his hands flying about passionately as he strode closer to Grantaire. By the time he was finished they were stood nose to nose, with Enjolras panting from his tirade.  
“You’re right, I’m not normal,” Grantaire muttered, before darting forwards and catching Enjolras’ stunning lips with his own. “I must be an idiot to take you back,” Grantaire whispered, his beer scented breath tickling Enjolras’ lips.  
“You won’t regret it, I swear you won’t. I love you Nicolas,” Enjolras beamed, pecking at Grantaire’s lips once more, relishing the feeling.  
“Oh for god’s sake not in the living room, we eat in here!” Eponine shouted as she locked the front door behind her and pushed past them. Only later would the pair question her on why she wasn’t surprised they got back together; and Eponine would just reply with a chuckle and a knowing wink.

XXX

Grantaire was pacing, and trembling. Eponine had tried to get him to sit down. Combeferre had tried to get him to sit down. Even Courfeyrac had tried but to no avail. All four of them were sat in a back room waiting for the all important news. Enjolras was trying to legalise gay marriage. They had been together for six months now and the pair acted exactly like a married couple, but could not take the final step. Grantaire continued to pace, itching in his perfectly tailored suit and twisting his (hopefully) engagement ring around his finger. Enjolras had given it to him before he went in for the final voting; if gay and lesbian marriage was legalised then they would be the first to do it. A small smile twitched at Grantaire’s lips as the thought lingered in his mind; Mr and Mr Enjolras-Grantaire, he couldn’t wait. He continued to pace, his dream future rested on the decision made today. “R,” Enjolras whispered as he stepped through the door. They were all lingering in a back room of a church just round the corner from the parliament buildings eagerly waiting Enjolras’ return. Grantaire froze midstride and spun round with wide eyes to face Enjolras. This was the moment. 

Enjolras stepped into the room, his head low and his hands twitching; Grantaire instantly feared the worst. His breath started coming in frenzied spurts. Their love was always going to be wrong. If Enjolras couldn’t fix it then no one could. He hated being hated for something he couldn’t control. He loved Enjolras but everyone was determined to stop them being happy. It just wasn’t fair. Why must they be judged this way and treated so different. “Hey, hey sweetie,” Enjolras spoke up, cupping Grantaire’s chin with his hand and tilting his lover’s head up. He softly kissed Grantaire’s cheek where a tear had run down during his internal despair. “Will you marry me?” Enjolras whispered in Grantaire’s ear softly, sporting a smug smile due to his success. Grantaire’s face was a picture of shock as Enjolras stood there waiting for a response. It felt like hours but could have only been seconds.   
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Grantaire shouted practically jumping on Enjolras. And it was that moment, the moment where all their closest friends were full of joy and Enjolras and Grantaire had a long life ahead of them that they finally realised, everything was going to be alright now.


End file.
